Rage of Passion (17 page)

“I know, stop it and go to bed. I'm going, I'm going. Turn me out into the cold, a poor little frigid woman….” She was joking about it! It was the first time.

He knew it, too. Tenderly, he bent and kissed her. “You aren't frigid,” he whispered. “Tomorrow night, I'll prove it to you beyond a shadow of a doubt. Now, good night!”

He walked past her with a grin, and she floated on up to bed. Things were definitely looking up.

The next morning, Janet and Becky were up at the crack of dawn, helping Maggie get her things together.

She was wearing a silky oyster-white dress with a full skirt, a spray of lily of the valley in her hair and several sprigs woven into a bouquet. It was only going to be a simple affair, but she was excited all the same.

“What are you going to wear?” she asked Gabe in the hall as he went up to start getting his things together.

“Oh, jeans and a sweat shirt…” he began, his eyes laughing at her.

“Gabriel!”

“My gray suit, I guess,” he replied. “Will that do?”

“You look very nice in gray,” she said, smiling up at him. “You look nice in jeans, too.”

He winked at her. His eyes darkened a little as they searched hers. “No second thoughts? No cold feet?”

She shook her head. “None at all. And you?”

“Same here.” He lifted her hand and slowly removed the dainty diamond ring from her finger, his expression unreadable.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“What I should have done when I gave it to you,” he replied, disturbed by his guilt. It had bothered him, not making a production about giving her the ring. Now he was going to remedy it.

He slid the ring gently onto her finger and lifted it to his lips. He brushed it softly and looked into her shocked eyes. “That's the way I should have done it, Maggie,” he whispered. “That's the way I meant to do it. I made it feel like a merger, didn't I?”

“I—I didn't mind,” she faltered.

“Sure you did. And so did I. It may not be the world's greatest love match, but it's no business arrangement, either.” He bent again, probing her lips lightly with his. “Now, go and get dressed, little one. We're going to be invaded by people any minute. Tonight, we'll start where we let off in my study last night.”

She smiled against his mouth. “Until tonight!”

He laughed and went upstairs with a quick wink. Maggie stared after him, sighing. It wasn't at all like her first marriage. She wasn't afraid of him. Becky loved him, and he was going to be the ideal husband and father. Only one thing was missing.

If only he could love her…

Chapter Nine

M
aggie didn't have time to get cold feet before the wedding. The Durangos showed up early that morning with their toddlers in tow, and she became so involved with company and wedding preparations that it was impossible to brood.

John Durango was huge—a tall, broad-shouldered man with a mustache and thick black hair. His eyes were slate gray, and Madeline was his exact opposite. She was slender and had reddish-gold hair, which she wore long, and pale green dancing eyes. The boys took after their father but they had Madeline's green eyes, and their parents obviously doted on them.

“This is Edward Donald,” Madeline told Maggie, nodding toward a plump little boy in a sailor suit, “and this is Cameron Miles,” she added, indicating another son in shorts and a striped shirt. “I guess technically you could say they're twins, but they aren't identical, thank God.”

“When do you find time to write?” Maggie asked.

Madeline grinned. “At one in the morning, usually. John and Josito try to spare me by looking after them in the evenings when I'm on deadline, and we have a nanny who comes in when we need her. It works out. I still manage to spend enough time with them. I've cut back on the number of books I write, and that's helped, too.”

“Writing must be fascinating work,” Maggie mused.

“Motherhood is even more fascinating.” She glanced out into the hall, where Gabe was introducing Becky to a charmed John Durango.

“We were shocked and delighted to find out that Gabe was getting married,” Madeline remarked, watching the tableau. “John was just his age when we married,” she added. “He's forty-three now, and I'm thirty-one. Time does fly, doesn't it?”

“All too fast,” Maggie agreed. “Becky loves him.”

“Yes. It shows.” She turned, searching the younger woman's eyes. “So do you.”

Maggie blushed, dropping her eyes. “He doesn't know,” she said softly. “He thinks it's for Becky.”

Madeline frowned. “Shouldn't you tell him? He might feel the same way.”

Maggie shook her head. “He's already said that love isn't something he wants. We're friends. That suits him.”

“I thought it suited John and me, too,” came the dry reply. “Until one night in a storm I lost my head and said yes instead of no. And just look what happened.” She sighed delightfully at her sons. “What a simply beautiful reminder they are.” She glanced up. “Sort of like human love tokens, don't you think?”

Maggie laughed. “Yes.”

The older woman watched her curiously. “Gabe doesn't say a lot about you, but I gather that you're having a bad time with your ex-husband.”

“Really bad,” Maggie replied. “He wants my daughter—only because she has a trust.”

“Rat,” she muttered. “Well, don't you worry. Gabe will take care of him!”

Probably he would, Maggie thought later as she stood beside Gabe in the small church, repeating her wedding vows. She tried not to betray herself by crying, but it was hard. Becky was the flower girl and John Durango, towering over everyone, was best man. Janet served as matron of honor. And a few local people had turned up for the brief ceremony.

Afterward, there was a reception at the ranch and Maggie felt her nerves going raw from all the excitement.

“Calm down, now,” John Durango told her as she filled a plate beside him. “All these party animals will go home soon, and you'll have him all to yourself—Edward, stop shoving cake down your brother's shirt!” he called to one of his sons.

“Boys look a bit harder to manage than girls,” Maggie commented playfully.

He glanced at her with a charming smile. “Think so? Look what your daughter's doing.”

She turned around, and was horrified to find Becky sitting in the middle of the floor with a big green frog in the lap of her taffeta dress. “Becky!” she gasped, her hands going to her mouth.

“Where did she get a frog, for God's sake?” Gabe asked from behind her, staring.

“Oh, I gave it to her,” John Durango said nonchalantly.

“It was sitting on the porch eating flies, and it looked pretty lonely to me. I thought it needed a friend.”

Gabe glared at him. “Wait until your sons get to be her age. I know your own fatal weakness,
son
, so look out.”

“You wouldn't,” John said.

“Oh, wouldn't I?” Gabe grinned at him.

“Go and take the frog back,” Madeline told her husband.

“I can't! It would be cruel,” John muttered. “Look, she's kissing it.”

“Animal,” Madeline accused, hitting at him.

“Wait, now,” Gabe said, holding Madeline back as she started past him. “Wait a minute.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I want to see if he changes into something better-looking.”

Maggie gave him a hard look and moved past them to her daughter.

“Isn't he sweet?” Becky sighed. “Mr. Durango gave him to me. Do you suppose Cuddles will like him?”

“Your puppy will like him very much, especially with catsup,” Maggie replied, smiling. “He'll eat the frog.”

“He won't,” Becky argued, glaring.

Gabe solved the problem. “I've got some flies for him,” he said, reaching down to take the frog from his new daughter. “You can visit him later.”

“Am I really going to stay with Grannie while you and my mama go on a honeymoon?” Becky asked Gabe.

He sighed. “Sweetheart, it won't be much of a honeymoon. Just overnight, in fact, but I think Grandma's got a special cartoon movie just for you to watch on the VCR.”

“For me? What is it?”

“Go ask her,” he said gently.

She jumped up, forgetting the frog. Gabe studied it and Maggie, then grinned as he offered it to her.

“I already have one handsome prince,” she whispered, reaching up to kiss his chin. “But thanks anyway.”

He smiled at her gently and went off with the frog.

That night, after Madeline and John and all the guests had gone, they drove to Abilene and checked into a luxury hotel, where Gabe had reserved the bridal suite. He carried her across the threshold and stared wickedly at the huge king-size bed.

“That's sure as hell going to beat the sofa in the parlor,” he told Maggie with a grin. “My back still hurts from it.”

“Maybe there's a vibrator built into this one,” she suggested, although she felt a little shy about saying it.

He put her down and went to check. “So there is,” he chuckled, and glanced at her with raised eyebrows. “Want to try it?”

She stood in the middle of the room in her demure off-white shirtwaist dress and tried to affect a sophistication she didn't feel. “If you like,” she said weakly.

He turned, frowning. In his gray vested suit, Maggie couldn't help admiring him. He looked marvelously handsome. “What's wrong?” he asked, coming over to her. “You aren't afraid of me, surely?”

“No,” she replied quickly. She stared at his vest. “We haven't spent a lot of time alone, that's all. It's a little strange, now.”

He sighed, taking her by the arms. “I should have thought of that. But I was too afraid of losing my head with you. I guess I went overboard the other way.”

“It will all work out, won't it?” she asked, really worried, her eyes wide and soft as they looked up into his.

He searched them, feeling wild shivers of pleasure all over. “Sure it will,” he murmured. He drew her closer, loving the exquisite sensation it gave him when he felt her tremble. “I'm going to take a long time with you tonight,” he whispered at her lips. “It may not be our first time, but I'll make you think it is.”

She reached up to his mouth, felt it move slowly over hers, minty and smoky and softly penetrating. And she trembled because this slow ardor was so much more shattering than violence. Drawing closer, she moved her body against his in a gentle rhythm.

His tall, lean body vibrated at the contact. His breath quickened, and he bent, lifting her, his pale eyes darkening as they searched hers. He carried her to the bed, laid her down and stretched out beside her.

The lights were on but Maggie never noticed. The bed was large enough to give them plenty of room, and they needed it. He was insatiable, his body first over hers, then under it, his hands touching, touching hers, guiding. She learned the warm, hard contours of his powerful, hair-roughened body in a new way, a shockingly bold way that made him laugh and shudder all at once.

“Come on, touch me,” he chided when she drew away. He brought her hands back, holding her shocked gaze. “We're married. It's all right.”

“I know, but it's new,” she whispered. “It's still new.”

“I hope it always will be,” he whispered back. He smoothed his lips down her body as he spoke and felt the sweet, slow trembling start all over again.

He took an eternity arousing her, until she was moaning and crying and writhing like a wild thing. And then he took her—he was patient even then, despite the storm and fire of it—in a rhythm that was slow and deep and demanding.

Maggie never felt afraid, not even when the tenderness reached a peak that threatened to tear her apart. She felt the mattress shudder beneath them, heard his tortured breathing at her ear. Her nails bit into his back, and she couldn't even help it. She reached up with her legs, catching his hips, holding them, her body arched like a bow. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she trembled uncontrollably, crying out in exquisite anguish as the pleasure slammed into her.

Above her, Gabe was feeling it just as intensely. His voice broke at her ear, his powerful body crushing down on hers, shaking her as it convulsed. His hands on her hips dug in and hurt, but even that was sweet.

She heard him hoarsely whisper her name. And then he relaxed, his full weight settling damply over her, his heartbeat almost frightening in its heavy, hard quickness.

She touched his hair, exhausted, sated. Part of her, she thought dazedly, loved him until it was pain. Her eyes closed and she drew him even closer, her arms loving.

He felt that surge of possession and it aroused him all over again. He was tired, so tired, but her body was tormenting him with its exquisite softness, its eager submission. He trembled and his hands moved under her hips, lifting them into his again.

“Gabe?” she whispered, stunned.

“Shh,” he whispered back. His mouth found hers, tenderly. “Shh, it's all right.” He moved, and she trembled. His head lifted, his eyes searching hers. “Is it all right if I do this again?” he whispered softly. “I won't hurt you?”

His consideration made her cry. “Of course you won't,” she whispered. She reached up, touching his face, her eyes so filled with emotion that he had to look away.

He didn't want gratitude. That was what this was, he convinced himself. He was saving Becky, he was giving them both a home and security. Maybe she was attracted to him, too; but the rest was all sacrifice and submission. That wasn't at all what he wanted.

When he turned his face back to hers, Maggie saw that the light had died in him. “What is it?” she asked softly. “What do you want that I'm not giving you? You'll have to tell me. I know very little about this.”

He lifted his face, hard now, and taut, and looked into her eyes. “I think you know what I want,” he said half under his breath. “But part of you is afraid to give it to me.”

She searched his eyes slowly. Yes, she knew. He wanted passion. He wanted more than submission. He wanted…this.

She let instinct guide her, forcing down the fear of violence that had consumed her for so many years. She reached out and touched him, stroked him, relishing the feel of his body shuddering against hers.

“I can be anything you want,” she whispered. She lifted her hands to his face and tugged. “Anything, Gabriel.” Her mouth opened against his, and she thrust her tongue gently inside his mouth, twisting her body up against his in quick, hard advances.